The Morning Cigar

Returning home today by bus, bus, plane, bus and train, I think I succeeded in not losing anything along the way, something I regard as a major triumph. I'd previously on this trip managed to mislay a jacket, my wallet, my day pack and a boarding pass. The former has been written off, but the wallet and pack were found by kind people and returned to me. The lost boarding pass created a bit of last minute panic but that was traced to being left in a security tray and I made it on to the plane in time. Just in time. I seem to be making a habit of being the last person to board a flight. The key is to look cool rather than flustered, to give the impression that you're fully in control of circumstances. Master of your destiny. 

I wish.

Flying back, it was amazing to see how much snow was still collected around the fringes of the fields in Devon, marking out each western boundary edge. Those drifts must have been huge. It feels strange to have missed so much weather. There was fresh snow to be seen back in Yorkshire, but it was already melting fast and had almost gone by the time I reached Ilkley.

I had an hour to kill between my two buses on the way to the airport in Lanzarote and took a wander around Arricife. The great thing about photography is that there is never any time, in any place, that can't be spent usefully and enjoyably. Every town offers opportunities, even if it's decay rather than beauty, graffiti instead of architecture. And there are always people to photograph. It's amazing how far you can get with just hand gestures.

Wherever you find yourself, it's never a bad thing to be on cigar-smoking terms with the local gangster. The camera is a wonderful way of breaking down barriers.